Yarzheit
by SilverIceBlueEyes
Summary: A week after the team mourns the anniversary of the loss of Kate, Ziva mourns someone else. Slightly TIVA. Major OOC-ness, like a crying Ziva, but it's neccessary to the story.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so I am aware that there is some OOC-ness, but it is necessary. Also, I'm not sure if Tony knows Ari was Ziva's half brother before _Cloak (6:8), _or that she was the one that killed him. For the story, he knows neither, and he just assumed it was Gibbs who shot Ari.Yes, this is a TIVA fic. Here you go!

_(Third person POV)_

It was a week after the anniversary of Kate's death. The team had gotten over their day of mourning. Ziva's, however, hadn't even begun. It would seem odd to anyone who knew her, for her to mourn one of her victims. She had killed too many people to count. Why was this one any different? But it was. It was completely different. It was different because he was not nameless. It was different because of the circumstances. It was different because of what he had done. It was different because of who he was. It was different because she knew him, or thought she did. It was different because he was her brother.

_(Ziva's POV)_

I got up like any other morning and went for my usual run. I took a shower. I got dressed. I glanced at my clock. And I froze. It was May 29th. (A/N: I'm guessing a date, it's probably totally off.) 2 years. It had been two whole years. I went back and took two candles out of my cabinet. One I lit and left burning on my countertop. The other I put in my bag. Then I left for the office. 15 minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot. I showed my badge to the security officers, and made my way up to the squad room. I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer. Then I pulled the candle out of my bag, set it on my desk, and lit it. McGee came in, sniffed the air, and said, "Do I smell smoke?"

"No, McGee, it's that," I replied, gesturing to the candle. He looked at it, puzzled for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to his own desk. Gibbs came in next, morning coffee in hand. He too sniffed the air, and looked for the source of the smell. I pointed toward the candle. Gibbs looked confused, but then he saw a calendar, and realized the date. A flash of understanding came into his eyes, and he nodded once to me. I smiled wryly as he sat down, and waited for the inevitable. Tony would loudly question the smell, candle, and reason, something I did not want to explain. Especially in front of Gibbs, McGee, and anyone else who happened to hear me. Especially because Gibbs was the only one who knew the truth. Right on cue, Tony came barging in, and, like the two agents before him, inhaled the air. However, unlike the more mature agents who preceded him, Tony said bluntly, "What's that smell? Does anyone smell smoke? Because if someone is smoking in this building, it's a federal offense. Ziva, the smell seems to be coming from YOUR direction." He said all this while maintaining that stupid smirk on his face. I gestured toward the candle. "It is not a cigarette, Tony. The candle is the cause of the smell," I told him. He rounded on me saying: "And just why would Officer David have a nondescript white candle on her desk?" I sighed. I knew this was coming. Why avoid it now? But then Gibbs' cell phone rang, and he barked out, "Gear up, dead body at Quantico." Saved by the bell. How cliché. We followed Gibbs to the elevator, and made our way to the crime scene. It was like any other, and we got back about an hour later. Tony looked over at the candle with a look in his eye I couldn't quite place. (A/N: I know I give NO details on the case, but it's not important. It's not a part of the story at all other than the 'saved by the bell' thing.) "So…what's with the candle anyway, Zee-vah?" Tony asked, getting straight to the point. I took a deep breath and said quietly, "It is called a Yarzheit candle. In Jewish tradition, you light a candle and say a few special prayers on the anniversary of someone's death."

"Who died?" Tony asked, his voice slightly more compassionate and serious. But not much- he still had that tone in his voice he got every time he did or said something like this, or teased McGee, or corrected my English…you get the idea.

"My brother." I replied. I had to get out of there. "Excuse me," I said, pushing past a stunned Tony, and all but running to the ladies' room. I pushed open the door roughly and barricaded myself in the first stall. It was there that I proceeded to fall apart. I cried for a good fifteen minutes. I felt like a failure–for killing him in the first place, and hurting my family that way, and then for crying about it. Growing up in Mossad had instilled in me the belief that any emotion at all was a weakness. And here I was sobbing my eyes out. Had I gone soft? Had I forgotten everything I knew? What happened to the Ziva David who didn't let anyone in, who was strong and tough and the perfect Mossad agent? _You learned to love. You learned it was okay to let people in. When you came to NCIS, you found a family, and people who loved you the way you were, _said a little voice inside my head. I knew it was right. I was still strong. I still had my training. And now I had to use it to go back outside and face my colleagues.

"I'm sorry." Tony said when I sat back down at my desk, and I knew he was being sincere. I couldn't help being a little bitter, though. "No, you're not." I said, with a little more venom in my voice than I meant for it to have. He looked at me, confused, and a little hurt. "You knew him. You celebrated his death," I continued. "I was there. You were happy. You got your revenge." A look of comprehension was starting to come onto his features. "You're not saying–"

I cut him off, pain all over my face.

"Yes, Tony. I am. Ari was my brother." He just stared at me, perhaps seeing his face in his mind, and comparing it to mine.

"He was my half brother. We were so close. That is why I so adamantly refused to believe he was a traitor. I told you that night, when you were tailing me, that my little sister Tali was killed in a Hamas bombing when she was 16. Ari was so broken up about it. He made it clear that he hated Hamas and everything to do with it. I don't know what changed." At this point I was close to tears. Gibbs was calmly looking at his computer, but he obviously heard the whole thing. McGee was eavesdropping less inconspicuously. So now they knew. It was too much. I let out a quick sob, and before I knew it, I was bawling into Tony's shirt, while he stroked my hair and murmured words of comfort. After a while, my tears subsided, and Tony pried my fingers off his soaked shirt. "Zi?" he asked. I quickly dried my tearstained face on my shirt "Yes, Tony?" I replied, hoping my voice did not betray the emotion I was feeling. "I-I didn't know. I had no idea. But how can you possibly work with Gibbs?" Tony said. "What are you talking about, Tony? Why wouldn't I be able to work with Gibbs?" I replied, curious.

"Well, aren't you angry with him? He killed your brother." I looked down.

"No, he didn't," I said quietly.

"What?" Tony asked, incredulous.

"Gibbs didn't kill Ari. I did," I said, and the words brought on a fresh wave of tears and self-loathing. I was sobbing again, and I didn't care. Someone was holding me, comforting me. "I'm a horrible person! I killed my own brother! I'm heartless and cold and cruel, and oh GOD WHY?" I said into Tony's shoulder. He said nothing, just continued to hold me. And that was all I needed. Someone to hold me and tell me it would be alright. Someone to soothe my fears, and refute my claims that I was a horrible person. I finished crying, and said, "Toda, Tony." He looked confused. "For what?" he asked.

"For letting me cry. For just being there. For being my friend. For everything," I replied. He smiled softly, and it wasn't his usual cocky grin. It was a genuine smile, and I appreciated it even more. I went home that night, content. I said the prayers for Ari, and had a quiet night at home. For the first time in months, I did not dream of my disapproving father, telling me I was a failure, that everything that had ever gone wrong was my fault, that I was a horrible person. And for the first time in months, I believed it.

**A/N: So that was Yarzheit. However, if you want me to do Tony's POV, I will. Give me 5 reviews saying you want Tony, and I will give him to you (well, his POV, anyway. I want him all to myself. I'm selfish like that). Tony's POV will be a bit different, because it will have what was happening while Ziva was MIA. (Well, not really, but you know what I mean.) Thanks so much for reading,**

**SilverIceBlueEyes**


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